


Kinktober Day 2: Voyeurism

by Oriana1990



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Coming In Pants, M/M, Masturbation, Peter Parker is a Mess, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oriana1990/pseuds/Oriana1990
Summary: When Peter Parker can't sleep, his attempts at relaxation get him a front-seat view of Mr Stark's private time.





	Kinktober Day 2: Voyeurism

**Author's Note:**

> Another day, another drabble. And another ship!
> 
> Warning: this could arguably be described as underage, though there isn't actually any sexual contact between any characters in this. Read at your peril and don't @ me if it's not your bag, if you please.

It had been a really, really long day.  
Peter was really, really tired.  
Peter really, really couldn’t sleep.

He threw off his covers and sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. The unfamiliar surroundings of the compound probably didn’t help, but mostly he was just wired from the day’s mission. They may have defeated the bad guy – of course they had, they were the friggin’ _Avengers_ – but now he was truly getting his ass well and truly kicked by insomnia.

His usual strategy of going out on patrol wasn’t an option; the compound was too far from his normal patch, and to be honest he was too exhausted and achy to be any help if stuff did hit the fan.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t at least _hang out_ though.

Peter reached for his suit, still in a crumpled heap where he’d left it after getting back from the mission and collapsing into the world’s longest shower. The feeling of crawling out of his own skin dissipated as he pulled it on, relaxing into the familiarity. 

“Uh, FRIDAY, would you mind opening a window please?” 

"_Of course, Peter._”

One of the large floor-to-ceiling glass panels slid near-silently out of position, allowing Peter to slip out of his room and onto the side of the building. He climbed nimbly up the sheer glass, and on finding the overhanging ledge at the top, promptly yeeted himself (carefully) backwards to hang upside-down on a strong strand of web.

Peter groaned as he felt the stretch in his spine and neck, and took stock of the last remaining injuries from the day’s shenanigans. 

The combination of self-administered physical therapy and the view (albeit upside-down) over the grounds of the compound did wonders for Peter’s stress levels, and he felt himself being lulled into a doze-like state as he slowly spun on his webbing.

Reality came back into focus as he realised his rotation had taken him round to face into the compound’s windows, and that he was now facing – _oh my god_ – into Mr Stark’s suite.

He tensed, ready to scramble back up to the ledge if he’d been seen, but it was pitch black inside. Mr Stark hadn’t closed the blinds or anything, and the fact it was the middle of the night was no match for Peter’s enhanced vision. He reached out to touch the glass with just one finger to stall his spinning and get a better look into the room.

Mr Stark was in bed – _obviously, it’s like 3am_ – and was wrapped in just a sheet up to his chest. Peter took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn’t be staring even when there was nobody else around to notice, but just at that moment he didn’t care. Even so, he blushed, thinking of what the other Avengers might say if they could see him. What Mr Stark might say. He knew he wasn’t exactly subtle with the whole hero-worship vibe, but like, nobody with eyes and internet access could blame him.

“Take a picture, kid, it’ll last longer.”

The wry comment was so vivid in his imagination that he physically startled, the flush of his face spreading throughout his body. The idea of being caught looking made his heart race, his palms sweat. He felt his dick twitch, and crossed his legs to try to calm himself down.

Then he saw Mr Stark move, and he very much did not calm down.

Peter held his breath as the figure on the bed stirred. He could see one of Mr Stark’s hands coming up to run through his own hair, and the other –

The other was sliding down his body, under the sheet.

_Oh, god._

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t asleep.

Peter felt his heart rate go through the roof as the tell-tale motions of _holyshit Mr Stark is touching himself_ became apparent under the thin sheet; legs parting, hand exploring, hips slightly rocking. He could barely breathe – if he shouldn’t have been staring before then he definitely shouldn’t be watching now.

He watched helplessly as the man’s languid strokes continued to shift the sheet, hinting torturously at what was still out of sight. His erection was getting genuinely painful at this stage, but he didn’t dare move; couldn’t drag his attention away from the vision in front of him.

Then, because what even is Peter’s life, it got worse.

Peter felt his soul leave his body as Mr Stark pushed his sheet down past his hips, past his thighs, kicked it off completely, licked his own palm, and really went to town. He had never wanted someone so much – wanted to _taste something_ so much – in his life. His ears were ringing and his body felt like it was on fire.

As he saw white fluid erupt from the older man’s cock, he cracked. He pressed both hands against his own confined dick and immediately came hard in his suit, writhing on his web rope and gasping for air. He bit his lip painfully to prevent any incriminating noise escaping, but was betrayed nonetheless by his helpless flailing. He crashed loudly into the window pane, impacting all down his still-tender left side, and making Mr Stark’s eyes fly open in shock.

Peter didn’t pause to think. On instinct he shot new webs high up to the ledge and pulled himself out of sight, landing breathless and dazed on the roof.

“What the _fuck_.”


End file.
